Scattered across the pages of Millicent Borges Accardi’s Woman on a Shaky Bridge are small burst of concentrated brilliance—little language snacks that feed a desire to find music uncompromised in the pursuit of story. Some of the poems read like experiments, limit-testing lengths of uncertainty and hesitation, but other poems (see Ciscenje Prostra, Buying Sleep, Only More So) charge forth with great confidence and perception, apologizing for nothing…as it should be.
Read darkly, and think not of peace but of surviving; as the collection progresses, persistence is key. Come in. Unpack. Get proverbially married. And do not shy away from sins, for they are at home here. The women are taut, and they remember. The poems are eclectic, and they invite the best sort of tension. These experiences-as-poems are honest—the pensive images are tender and candid in turn—and somehow wonderfully forlorn. Power radiates from the control of language in the assertive pieces and that alone will propel the pages to turn.
“Open up the window for the neighbors” and read them something buoyant—loudly—and the core of Accardi’s collection will claw out with sharp commentary on hostility, sex, suicide, isolation, anxiety, and love in a calm spring with a busy horizon of notes. Someone will grow. Whether it is the reader or the world (or the neighbors listening even if they didn’t mean to) these poems will find a way to thrive, with or without the sun.